


To Break A Fever

by Escape_Reality



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Wings, Canon Universe, Caring Castiel, Castiel Taking Care of Dean, Domestic destiel, Fluff, Its super cute and pure fluff, M/M, Sick Dean, Wings, it'll make your teeth rot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:14:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22230895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Escape_Reality/pseuds/Escape_Reality
Summary: Dean is the biggest baby when he's sick but he'll never admit itCas just wants to take care of him, even if the man is as stubborn as they comeBased off of Lizleeships beautiful fan art on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/p/B7MJN0cHlkM/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 36
Kudos: 463





	To Break A Fever

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based off of Lizleeships fan art on Instagram, check it out because they're absolutely amazing. https://www.instagram.com/p/B7MJN0cHlkM/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

To Break A Fever

Of all the things to render Dean-the-all-mighty-Winchester weak and immobile, it had to be a freakin’ fever.

So here Dean was, reduced to nothing but a sniffling, mucus filled, pathetic lump underneath beige bed sheets—which did absolutely nothing to keep his body warm with how thin it was—he’s probably better off covering himself with some paper towels.

Dean groans as another shiver wracks through his body, his aching muscles protesting the movement, teeth starting to chatter yet again. He tries to curl tighter into himself, already in the tightest fetus position his body was capable of doing but he still felt so very _cold_.

He absolutely hates this with every fibre of his being, he’d deal with a busted up face, or a broken limb over being sick any day. Dean is the biggest baby when he’s sick, something he’d never admit, not even on his death bed. But every time he was sick he just felt so very _weak_ , so damn useless, hell, he could barely sit up without being hit with a dizzy spell that made his head spin and his stomach flip unpleasantly.

He thankfully didn’t get sick often thanks to his strong immune system, though every time he did, it was _bad_.

Much like the illness he was currently going through. He’s been bed ridden for three days now yet it seems the damn sickness still wasn’t letting up. Dean was getting bored but there wasn’t much he could do, not unless he wanted Sam and Cas mother-henning him with every step he took and his body protesting against his every move.

Dean flips his aching body over, trying to seek some more warmth somewhere on this god awful bed, his teeth seemed to chatter harder than ever when all he’s met with is untouched sheets that are cool to the touch.

Dean curses like a sailor in his head, the words not seeming to want to pass through his trembling mouth, instead making pitiful sounds of discomfort deep in his throat.

All he wants is one restful night of sleep—something he hasn’t gotten in 3 freakin’ days—was that too much to ask for?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps echoing down the bunker hall, coming closer and closer to his room. He ignores it, thinking it was Sam getting up for some water or a light snack, until he hears the snick of his door knob being turned and the creak of his bedroom door opening.

Dean moans lowly as he turns his body and looks over his shoulder to see what the hell Sam— that was definitely not Sam.

“Cas?”

Dean says confusedly, voice sounding rough and unused, wondering what on God’s green earth the angel was doing standing in his doorway at close to midnight.

Cas says nothing, penetrating blue eyes holding Dean’s as he crosses the room to stand at the foot of his bed.

“The hell are you doing Cas? I told you I—“

Dean’s whole ‘I’m fine’ spiel is cut off by said angel suddenly _stripping right before him_.

Did Dean nod off without noticing and was currently experiencing one extremely vivid dream—slowly entering _wet_ dream territory—of his angelic best friend? Not that it would be the first time, yet another thing Dean would never admit until the day he died, possibly even passed that.

Dean could only watch, absolutely mesmerized as Cas slowly, almost seductively, unbuttons his shirt. Fingers teasing every button as he slowly slips it through the hole, trailing the pads of his fingers over the soft cotton of his white button down before starting on the next button in its path. Dean felt his mouth watering slightly, Adam’s apple bobbing to gulp down once or twice as he watches his best friend—that he totally _only_ has _platonic_ feelings for—strip in front of him, _for_ him, all while electric blue eyes are locked on his, gaze unwavering.

Castiel had gotten down to the last button of his shirt and for the first time since he entered Dean’s room, he breaks eye contact to glance down at what he’s doing. The button slips through the hole, Cas’ shirt completely undone and hanging open to give Dean a teasing glimpse of a smooth, tanned and hard chest and abdomen.

“U-uh… Cas?” Dean curses the slight stutter, giving away how affected he is.

The dark haired man still doesn’t utter a word, instead he looks up again at Dean through his lashes, head titled downwards, eyes filled with so much intensity.

It steals the breath from Dean’s lungs.

Dean wills his body to sit up now, despite the aches and pains, despite the way his frame trembles from the cold air. It’s almost like he’s being drawn to Castiel, a need to be closer without even realizing it.

_Holy freakin’ shit these fever dreams are gettin’ way too realistic…_

Dean thinks, unknowingly having said the words out loud.

Dean could’ve sworn the corner of Cas’ lips quirked up ever so slightly at the statement.

They stare at each other for a beat, feeling as if time stopped right in that instant before it starts again and Castiel is moving… _to shrug his shirt off his shoulders_.

“Hey—“ Dean startles, face rapidly reddening. “Uh… C-Cas,”

He’s slightly panicking now, “Whatcha doin’ there, buddy?”

Cas narrows his eyes into slits, a faint blue-ish glow enveloping his already impossibly blue eyes, the same blue-ish glow also emanating from his tanned skin.

Then suddenly, impressive big black wings are sprouting out of Cas’ back, unfolding gracefully before spreading out to its full span, the tips of beautiful glossy feathers brushing the dusty ceiling, glinting slightly from the blue light they seem to emit.

Dean is… astounded.

His mind going absolutely blank, all he’s capable of doing right in this moment is staring in unashamed wonder.

Cas closes his eyes and tilts his head back as his wings spread out, probably drinking in the feeling of finally letting them stretch to their full capacity in this plane of reality.

Dean definitely does _not_ stare at the column of Cas’ throat and does _not_ fantasize about marking up that untouched skin.

He’s snapped out of not-so-PG thoughts by Cas looking forward once more, staring once again at Dean.

The angel folds his shirt carefully over his arm then takes an almost menacing step forward before uttering in that tantalizing gravely voice of his,  
“I can hear your teeth chattering from down the hall and your groans of displeasure,” he leans forward slightly, “it is _infuriating_.”

Dean feels slightly embarrassed and slightly… another emotion that he refuses to name, as he ducks his head and brushes his thumb against the bottom of his lip in a nervous habit, feeling his face heat up.

“Well shit feathers, ain’t exactly like I can help it, yanno? Now what the fu—“

“I can help it. Even without my grace.” Cas booms, effectively silencing Dean. Then he tosses his shirt onto Dean’s bed, before crouching down to place both hands on the sheets, wings spreading out more and raising in challenge, eyes boring into Dean’s as he growls out, “And you’re going to _let_ me.”

The shiver that wracks through Dean’s body is definitely not one due to the cold.

He’s also the slightest bit frightened because, _what in the fresh hell has gotten into the angel?_

Suddenly Dean whips his head towards the door and screams as loud as his tired throat can manage, “SAM! Get your ass in here! I don’t know what’s gotten into mister-angelic-rightenousness over here but Cas has lost his damn feathery marbles so grab those fucking Enochian handcuffs or holy oil—“

(In Sam’s bedroom, Sam sits on his bed with his laptop perched on his lap, leisurely reading an enlightening article about the current news when the peaceful silence of his room is severed by Dean yelling something—which at first Sam is startled by because its his _brother screaming_ —until he hears Cas in that garbled sentence and he instantly does not want to know what the hell is going on in Dean’s bedroom, especially involving him and Cas. He just sighs and reaches for the headphones already conveniently placed on his bed side table, quickly plugging it into his laptop, and starting up some music to drown out all the noise that could potentially scar him for life.)

Cas rolls his eyes to the ceiling, groaning in annoyance before quickly making his way around the bed to Dean’s side and pressing a hand over Dean’s mouth to silence him.

Dean makes an “mphfff” sound as he stares up at Cas with wide green eyes, panting harshly through his nose, from the screaming or from something else, he’s not entirely sure.

“Dammit Dean,” Cas growls, “Just shut up and stay still…”

Dean emits a pitiful whine that he definitely did not mean to let slip, muffled by Cas’ hand that’s still pressed to his mouth, his mind racing with a million thoughts at those words not knowing what in the fuck Cas is about to do.

He was either about to go all _Fifty Shades_ or _Psycho_ on his ass.

Cas finally let go of his hold on Dean’s mouth, Dean takes a deep breath immediately afterwards only to choke on it as Cas suddenly pulls back the covers.

Dean’s entire body tenses as Cas looks over his t-shirt and boxer clad form before moving forward, Dean scooting backwards, as Cas starts to climb onto the bed.

“Cas what the hell man?!” Dean cries, but the angel ignores him as he proceeds to get underneath the covers, the hunter can only watch as Cas throws the blanket over them both, his eyes never leaving Dean’s own as he does so and Dean swears he’s blushing a new shade of a deep red.

“Cas what—“ Dean tries again but is interrupted by one of the large, black, magnificent wings coming down over him.

Dean lets out a strangled chuckle, “Jeez Cas, I’m not a baby bird…”

He tries to joke but then that divine warmth that seems to be emitting from the wing envelopes him and warms his freezing form and _holy fuck_.

“Oh damn that’s warm.” Dean moans, eyes slipping shut of their own accord with how heavenly it feels, pardon the pun.

He keeps his eyes shut for a moment, drinking in the warmth, feeling a sense of calm and peace wash over him, only being broken by the sound of Cas’ suddenly soft voice.

“Better?” Cas questions, Dean slowly peels his eyes open, hooded green eyes meeting affectionate blue.

Cas stares at him with the softest expression Dean’s ever seen on the man, he lets out a pleased hum as the angel reaches a hand up to brush wayward hair off Dean’s forehead, then trailing his fingers down, over Dean’s temple, to settle softly on the hunter’s cheek, cupping it, thumb brushing a soothing pattern over freckled skin.

Dean chuckles a bit, feeling the need to give a witty retort to slightly break the suddenly intimate atmosphere that’s settled over them—and why the fuck is Dean not freaking out more about the fact that Cas is _intimately_ laying in his bed, beside him, a wing draped over Dean with a hand cupping his cheek is beyond him.

“Yeah you’re one big cuddly angelic badass, I get it.”

The angel gives one of his signature ‘really Dean?’ groans.

“ _Dean_.”

The hunter relents with a sigh, “Yeah, okay, better.”

Cas smiles a soft smile, teeth and all.

A smile he doesn’t show all that often.

A smile solely reserved for Dean.

“Good.”

Although the moment is getting very ‘chick flick-y’, he finds he doesn’t mind all that much because this is Cas. And damn, yes, maybe 10 years ago, he would’ve gotten the hell out of dodge the second the angel stepped into his room but it’s been _10 years_ and stranger things have happened, between him and Cas or otherwise.

The two men stare at each other for a while, both not even seeming to realize it, content with the closeness and thinking their own private thoughts, or simply lost in the others eyes.

Until Dean’s eyes start drooping, a wave of sleepiness washing over him due to the warmth and the feeling of absolute peace and contentment.

Cas moves his hand that had been resting on Dean’s cheek the whole time up to the man’s light brown hair, carding his fingers softly through it to soothe Dean some more.

“Sleep now Dean.” He says in a near whisper, the hunter says nothing, eyes now shut as he only burrows closer, unintentionally.

It’s several minutes later when soft snores start up and Cas is certain Dean is asleep. He carefully pulls his hand back from where it had been caressing Dean’s hair and takes a moment to just stare at the breathtaking human being before him.

For an angel who has struggled with grasping human emotion and human logic for so long and with an immeasurable amount of human related things he still remains unsure on, one thing he is absolutely certain about.

He is in love with Dean Winchester.

And with that thought in mind, he carefully shuffles forward to press a light kiss to Dean’s forehead.

Dean releases a soft sigh of contentment in his sleep, a sound Castiel will catalogue in his mind forever under ‘all the things Dean Winchester does that makes me fall in love with him more and more with each day that passes’.

The hunter shuffles forward even more, tucking his head underneath Castiel’s chin and throwing his leg over Castiel’s beneath the blanket, pressing his hands to the angel’s chest.

If hearts had the capability to actually explode with fond, Cas is certain now would be a moment his would.

He wraps an arm over Dean, underneath his wing, pulling the man impossibly closer.

And with that, Cas drifts off to his meditative state, the closest to sleeping he’ll get as an angel.

* * *

It’s approximately 7 hours later when Dean starts to stir, the most rest he’s gotten in 3 days.

Hell, the most rest he’s gotten in probably a year, not to mention, the most effective and relaxing. He also feels so much better than he has in days.

And to make it all that much better, he had such a pleasant dream of Cas spreading his wings like some kind of beautiful avenging angel and then having those very wings draped over him as he and Cas cuddled together on Dean’s bed—

_Wait a fucking minute._

Dean suddenly jerks awake, nearly shooting upwards if it weren’t for the arm clinging onto him and the _wing_ draped over him, its owner snuggled up to his back. Dean’s face heats up like a mid summer Texas heat wave.

“C-Cas?”

Cas goes stiff immediately, feeling the change in the atmosphere, in the moment.

He quickly shuffles backwards so that he is no longer pressed against Dean, instead placing a hesitant hand on the man’s shoulder,

“Don’t worry. Your fever has broken.” Cas assures him in a tight voice. Then quickly retreats and sits up on the edge of the bed, his back to Dean.

Dean turns his head and stares at those stunning inky black feathers, his heart sinking as he watches them slowly start to dissipate as Cas transports them back to their own plane, once again invisible to the human eye.

“I… I apologize for the intrusion. And for any discomfort I may have brought upon you. Now that your temperature is acceptable, I’ll leave you to your rest and solitude.”

Dean is at a loss for words not for the first time in the past 12 hours as he watches Cas shrug on his button down with hunched shoulders, head hanging once it’s on and about to get up from the bed.

Dean rubs the back of his neck in a nervous gesture muttering ‘shit’ under his breath before quickly uttering a “Cas, wait.”

Cas stills, makes no move to get up from the bed and no move to turn around either, it’s as if he suddenly froze in place.

Before Dean can second guess or chicken out of what he’s doing, he hastily crawls across the bed, pressing his chest firmly against Cas’ back, his cheek pressing against the angel's as he grips the man’s—strong—shoulder.

“I, uh…” he mutters unintelligibly, “Y’know, I think I’m actually still cold.”

Cas slowly raises his blue eyes to meet Dean’s sideways and Dean watches as the anxiety evaporates from them.

The angel cracks a small smile and if Dean didn’t know any better, he’d say there was a slight pinkish tint to the man’s cheeks.

“You do look a little flushed.” Cas teases, nuzzling Dean’s cheek with his own which in turn made Dean flush for real.

Dean nudges him playfully, “Shuddup.”

Castiel only chuckles.

“So, uh,” Cas could feel the way Dean gulps against his shoulder, “You gonna get your feathery ass back in bed or what?”

Castiel smiles his Dean smile. The one only reserved for the hunter. “Anything for you Dean.”

The green eyed man flushes harder.

Instead of responding Dean just crawls back to what he now refers to as his side of the bed and Castiel follows suit.

They fit together like a puzzle piece, with Cas spooning Dean from behind—yet another secret Dean Winchester will take to the grave, sue him, he likes being the little spoon—an arm wrapped around Dean’s abdomen, pulling him closer.

Cas places a soft kiss on the crown of Dean’s head.

Yeah, Castiel was undeniably, irrevocably, and completely in love with Dean Winchester.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, please leave a kudos and a comment (especially those because they motivate me to keep writing) it would be greatly appreciated! :)


End file.
